Wednesday, July 29, 2009


We used to have a cat named Claude, who was usually called the Softy Soft. Compared to our other, older and spikier cat he was like a purry cloud. He was also quite flat and floppy like a bean bag with legs. During the Claude era we once convinced my sister Sally that it was the International Year of Softness.

I'm sure when Marcus was little we also went on about how soft he was. Little kids are extremely soft and then you tend to wrap them in layers of other soft things.

The designation "soft" has also attached to Michael. We will have to make a big effort to shake it some time before he becomes a Test opening batsman, Minister for Defence or drill sergeant.

Anyway, I was making up a song as you do, about how soft he was. He did not agree and his dismissal was pithy and memorable.

Me: He's got soft arms and he's got soft legs / he eats soft bacon and soft boiled eggs.

Michael: I haven't and I dont.

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